KylaMuirne
by xx'SherlockedGra'xx
Summary: Kyla-Muirne thought Sherlock as the most arrogant, ignorant self-abosirbed person she'd met- but he intrigued her and was determined to unravel his mystery. But will Sherock Let her? Sucky summary.Will be rated M eventually. Sherlock/OC
1. Chapter 1

**My first fanfic in a long two years. Yup, two years. I just never found time and lost the urge. But after Sherlock returned, I just had to sit down and write (though it's taken me a while to post it ). This is post –Reichenbach Falls, and Sherlock has returned after his 'death'- it's about one year on, and the press and everything have died down about his 'suicide' ;) .**

**Disclaimer- Does not belong to me, but 'The Moff' and Godtiss, and Arthur Conan Doyle. Sadly ): **

'Thank you, Mrs. Hudson.'

'It's such a pleasure to find a young girl like yourself to rent out the basement flat. It's good to get some use out of it. I hope you like it,' Mrs. Hudson smiled at the young woman in front of her.

'Now, I'm just warning you about the two boys I have upstairs. If you hear or see anything rather…unusual, shall I put it, don't fret yourself. One of them is quite…eccentric,'' she said, struggling to describe just who lived upstairs at 221B Baker Street.

'Don't worry, Mrs. Hudson, I'm used to unusual,' she replied, setting down the last box of her belongings in the open spaced living area.

'Alright, well, I leave you to it now,' Mrs. Hudson said, dropping the keys to the flat into her hand, '' Kyla-Muirne?' she questioned her as she was steeping through the doorway, ' Is that how you say it?'

'Yes- Kyla- mir-na. Thanks again, Mrs. Hudson,' Kyla said, her rosy lips pulling into a smile once again.

'No problem, dear. Just you get settled in,' Mrs. Hudson replied, and closed the door behind her.

Kyla stood in the middle of the living, taking in the flat. She had brought her medium-sized plasma television from her previous home, though there was a small, and quite ancient one already set up. She was glad she found a flat with which it was already furnished with the basics- a sofa and television in the living room, a table and four chairs, a microwave, a cooker and fridge-freezer in the kitchen, a double bed, wardrobe, and a bedside table and lamp in the bedroom.

Kyla looked at the small number of boxes around her. She inwardly groaned at the thought of tidying it all away, when all she wanted to do was sit down and rest after all the moving she had been through, but she knew if she didn't do it now, it would never be done. So, she got to work, tackling the clothes first.

Sherlock resisted the urge to lift his gun and shoot the walls again. He knew he'd receive quite a lecture from Mrs. Hudson and John both. He did have that dagger from the last case though…And what an interesting case it was.

The dagger was the murder weapon, by which an apparently very dead man had killed his wife with. It was, in fact, the husband's twin, that had killed her, because she had had an affair with him, and refused to divorce her husband…What woman would not know her husband had a twin? Had she not met his family? It really turned out to be a poor case.

Sherlock soon discarded the thoughts of the previous case. It was quite boring in reality; the only good coming out of it was the dagger- though John had insisted he give to the museum, as it was some 'ancient Chinese relic'- which he was now amusing himself with by practicing on the wall. The wall now had, not only gun-shots in it, but long, sloping cuts.

'Jesus Christ, Sherlock, will you leave the poor wall alone,' John complained, as he shut the door behind him.

'The wall had it coming. Again,' Sherlock stated, as he skilfully arched his arm, and brought the dagger down upon the wall in one swift, sweeping movement.

John sighed and rolled his eyes,'' Don't know why I try…like a child…find something normal to do…' John mumbled as he searched for his laptop amongst the many newspapers and other articles strewn about the flat.

'Mrs. Hudson found someone to move into the basement flat, if you wanted to know,'' John said, as his fingers went wild typing at the computer.

'I know,' Sherlock said, taking another swipe at the wall.

'Of course you'd know, why wouldn't you know?' John said to himself, as he checked his blog, 'The hit counter's stuck again.'

He received no answer from Sherlock.

' I bet it's some boring, mundane being that's moved in. Let's go meet them shall we?'

John turned around in his chair, looking at Sherlock with one eyebrow raised, 'The Great Sherlock Holmes wants to socialize?'

Sherlock ignored him, throwing the dagger across the room into the other wall, where it stayed.

'Come on. I can't stand being this bored any longer.'

'The last big case was just two weeks ago!'

'Exactly, John. _Two weeks!_' Sherlock emphasized.

He flung the door open and made his way quickly down the stairs, nearly bumping into Mrs. Hudson. John groaned and quickly followed. He hoped that he didn't frighten away the new tenant- Mrs. Hudson wouldn't be too pleased (nor would she be pleased with the state of the once perfectly, scrape free, gun-shot free wall).

'Oh! Sherlock, dear. Going somewhere?' Mrs. Hudson questioned smiling at the tall man.

'Yes, I was actually just going to welcome our new neighbour,'' Sherlock replied quickly and strode past.

Mrs. Hudson looked somewhat surprised and turned to see John follow, ' Make sure he doesn't scare the poor girl off. I'm glad I got someone like her to take the flat,' she said to John.

'Don't worry, Mrs. Hudson, I will,' John replied with a smile, and quickly followed Sherlock, who was already opening the door.

'Oh for Christ's sake,' John mumbled, as he followed Sherlock through the door.

There was a young woman in the living area. Her long, chestnut hair was tied up in a bun, some loose strands escaping the hair tie. She was wearing a plain white tank top, and black leggings, listening to her iPod with ear phones plugged in, holding it in her hand, She obviously did not hear Sherlock's intrusion.

Sherlock stood in front of her, as she was set on getting some (what looked like) manuscript paper out, her fringe covering her face. She only noticed Sherlock as she stood up, and jumped, tripping over some boxes and landing on her back, 'Ow…' She groaned, rubbing her back as she sat up. Registering the fact that there were two strange men in her apartment, she leapt up, pulling her earphones out.

Her stomach did a mini summersault -of fear she supposed-at the tall, dark brooding man. She pushed the feeling away, remembering Mrs. Hudson's warning, and recomposed herself, slightly self conscious she was only in her tank top and leggings.

Sherlock's eyes narrowed for a second at her hesitated reaction, but they returned to normal just as quickly.

'Who are you!' she demanded, glaring at Sherlock.

'Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes, and this is my good friend, John Watson,' he replied, acting very un-Sherlock like.

John jumped in, apologizing, 'I'm so sorry about him, we live upstairs in 221B. I'm really sorry, he doesn't really know anything about privacy,' John apologized over again. She narrowed her eyes for a moment, judging them, then relaxed slightly, picking up her iPod.

'Okay... Mrs Hudson warned me about you two…' She trailed off, 'I'm Kyla-Muirne, but please just call me Kyla.'

'Interesting, Irish. Northern I'd say. They have that dreadful accent.' Sherlock said, already deducing her. His statement received a deathly glare from Kyla, ' I'm from a small town about one hour away from Belfast,' she offered Sherlock.

John mouthed sorry to her, hoping that Sherlock would not attempt to further deduce anything about her.

'Kyla, meaning beautiful, implying '' a beauty that only poetry can capture''. Murine, meaning ''high-spirited,''. Interesting,' Sherlock said, his eyes narrowing again.

'What?' Kyla quizzed, wondering what he meant by 'interesting', whereas John was looking at Sherlock- since when did he know Irish Gaelic?

'It's a pity you don't suit your name,' Sherlock said, though she was unquestionably beautiful- the slightest tan, suggesting she had been on a holiday at a warm sunny place, round, large hazel doe eyes, even in a bun her chestnut hair seemed flowing and a perfect model's figure- on the 'outside', she was probably horrible on the 'inside'.

Kyla's lips formed a small 'o', completely and utterly shocked. Anger simmered inside her, but she kept it under control, waiting for him to apologize, but instead, John did.

'I really do apologize- I think your beautiful, not in _that_ way, not that I wouldn't go out with you, if you were older, but…Just ignore him,' John slightly babbling his words, though his composure suggested he was calmer.

'I'd say about eighteen, judging from some of the old flyers for university enrolment within one of the boxes. I'd say you are studying music from the fact you were retrieving some manuscript, and art because of the boxes of paint and the easel in the corner of the room. Your parents are paying for your tuition, whom are wealthy, because of the fairly new and expensive television set here, along with the newest model of iPods, and the iPhone you have sitting on the dresser- though judging by the clothes you are wearing and in that box, I'd say you do not care about designer clothes nor fashion,' Sherlock paused for a moment, looking over her, and raising an eye at her…casual attire.

'It's your first time living on your own as you so carelessly have left the door unlocked because you are not familiar with the responsibility and because of your age. You have no brothers or sisters because there are none in what looks to be a family photo with your parents and grand-parents. You love animals, especially horses, because most of the drawings I caught a glimpse of in the other room are of horses, and from the fact that you have riding gear in the bedroom. You-'

'Okay, Sherlock, leave her alone. I'm really, really sorry about him,' John cut off Sherlock, apologizing once again.

Kyla was staring at Sherlock, her anger which was simmering, was now a full blown bonfire, 'I'm studying Art and Criminology at university actually- I play music for…fun. I'm not an only child and I got in on a scholarship- my parents d- my parents couldn't care about me. I worked as a model to get that TV, and my iPhone and iPod,' she said, her anger dwindling to a small flame again, and a little sadness, because he reminded her of her once happy, perfect family.

_Model_, Sherlock repeated, his smile ghosting over his lips at his correct _deducing_, not that he was rarely wrong.

'Criminology? That's interesting, maybe you could help Sherlock,' John joked, smiling but it faded from the venomous look Sherlock gave him.

'I've only started this year, so I wouldn't be much help, I'm afraid,' Kyla said, speaking to John though her eyes were still fixed on Sherlock, as he looked around her things in the flat.

John now glared at Sherlock; even he noticed that Sherlock had hit a nerve there with Kyla, though Sherlock seemed ignorant to the fact.

Sherlock glanced to John then back to Kyla, who in turn was now studying Sherlock. Her short show of emotions soon disappeared, and she questioned Sherlock,' And what is it that you do for a living?'

'I'm a consulting detective, and John is my assistant,' he replied.

'I'm a doctor,' John said and smiled at Kyla, which she returned, but was intrigued by Sherlock's profession.

'A consulting detective? I've never heard of that.'

'You wouldn't have. I created the job.'

Kyla raised her eyebrow, 'You can't just create a job.'

'I beg to differ.'

'What does it involve doing then?' Kyla asked, pushing the boxes she had tripped over earlier into the corner of the room, and lifting the papers that had fallen from her hand as she fell.

'I help the police solve cases, 'consulting' them, since they fail so miserably at their jobs.'

Kyla replied with a quite 'hmmm' at his answer.

'Well, I need to get tidied up, so if you don't mind…' she said in her most polite way.

John understood and nodded, 'Of course, of course. Nice to meet you,' he said, and pushed Sherlock through the door.

'Nice to meet you too,' she said, and closed the door after her, and locked it.

She leaned against the door for a minute, thinking about the two men who lived upstairs. John was nice. He had apologized to her, and was very friendly, offering her smiles…He had the slightest, nearly unnoticeable limp like he had hurt himself, though he was still able to push and keep up with Sherlock's long strides and quick pace, for he was shorter than him.

Sherlock...Sherlock Holmes was the most arrogant, ignorant man Kyla had met, even if it was only for a few mere moments.

But there was…something about him. And it _was not _anything to do with attraction, or any other form like it. He was far too self-centred, and a show off. She also didn't know how old he was – he could be twenty five or forty five for all she knew- he had that ageless, ethereal look about him. Kyla would never be able to stick with someone like him. _Not that I'm looking for anyone_, she scolded herself.

Sherlock was interesting, like a mystery. He acted quite…odd, 'eccentric' Mrs. Hudson described him. Kyla could see now why she struggled to describe him. How would you describe Sherlock Holmes? She was determined to unravel him.

Kyla jumped out of her thoughts, and returned to finish unpacking her final few boxes, though her mind still drifted to the two men, every now and again as she busied herself. Who _really _lived upstairs at 221B Baker Street?

**Love it? Hate it? Should I continue?**

**Please review and let me know! I'm sorry in advance for any mistakes (I changed Kyla's name at least four times in this chapter :P) and I don't have a beta. Hopefully it won't seem too babbly or confusing. I don't think my chapters will always be this length, probably shorter, but I will try to update, hopefully, once a week, but my life is really busy, and I broke my laptop by spilling tea over it, so trying to borrow my aunt's :S. (by the way my A/N's will never be this long in future!). **

**Anyway, please review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you for reviews! They really make me want to write more **

**Just to let you know, Kyla has never heard of Sherlock, as she has only just moved to London from Ireland (; .**

**Disclaimer: Belongs to The Moff, Godtiss and Arthur Conan Doyle.**

'You got three things wrong Sherlock. _Three! _ Normally only one, but three! I think you're losing your touch, Holmes,' John teased, though he was still annoyed about Sherlock's behaviour toward Kyla. _What a great first impression, _he thought bleakly to himself.

Sherlock glared slightly at John, before saying simply, 'I wasn't finished.'

'Yes, well, Sherlock, she wanted us to leave. I'd want us to leave too if I were her, especially after your _deducing. _You might've well have called her ugly!' John exclaimed, though he knew Sherlock had no attraction to any girl…or any man, for that matter, in _that_ way. But he still didn't think that he'd be thinking about her appearance and be that rude, hurtful to her. And just as soon as she had moved in too!

'Well, though she is the _stereotype _of beautiful, she probably hasn't a very nice personality. Have you ever met someone who is undeniably beautiful, smart and has a great personality? I haven't.'

'Are you sure Sherlock? I can think of one person…' John trailed off, giving Sherlock a knowing look.

'I don't know what you're talking about.' Sherlock said, as he pushed open the door to their flat, striding over to the wall to get the dagger from earlier.

'Molly. I'm talking about Molly.'

Sherlock froze for a fraction of a second, his eyes for once showing what he…felt. _I do not have feelings! They always cause you to miss something, to get something wrong, _Sherlock thought fiercely.

'I think nothing more of Molly than an acquaintance,' Sherlock lied, remembering how she had helped him, when he needed someone most.

'Are you sure, Sherlock? Because when you… When you did what you did, you didn't come to me for help,' John said, not in an envious way, but just as an example of how much Sherlock did care for Molly, whether he knew it or not.

John continued, 'You can be spectacularly ignorant sometimes.'

'What do you mean?' Sherlock asked, with a critical gaze on John.

'Please say you don't notice how…How Molly acts? Around you?'

'Of course I do! She has that petty 'crush' on me, Watson.'

'I wouldn't call it petty, Sherlock. She's not some schoolgirl.'

'Well, she certainly acts like one around me, stumbling over her words like one,' Sherlock scoffed, turning the dagger in his hands, as he sat down and stretched out his legs, kicking off his shoes. He ran his figure up the length of the blade, pricking himself at the top.

John sighed and took the dagger off of him, 'I'm sending this to the museum.'

Sherlock groaned, 'I'm so bored!'

John put the dagger in one of his drawers, locking it so Sherlock wouldn't get to it- not that it'd prevent him much though.

'You should really talk to Molly, Sherlock.'

'Oh, just leave it be. She knows very well I'm far too busy to engage in any relationships.'

'You should at least apologize to her!' John exclaimed, turning to face him.

'What for?'

'For the way you've treated her!'

Sherlock scowled at John, reaching for his violin, 'I treat her the same as anyone else.'

John sighed, turning off his laptop and packing it up, 'I've asked Mrs. Hudson to look after you while I'm gone.'

Sherlock raised an eyebrow to John, 'Gone? Gone where?'

'Obviously weren't listening to me last week. I'm going away for a week with Jane.'

'Jane?'

John sighed again, 'The girl I've been with for the last three months? Ring any bells?'

'Oh. Her. Plain Jane, if I recall calling her that. Well, I can look after myself just fine,' Sherlock stated.

'Well, just in case, Mrs. Hudson will be checking on you. And Sherlock?'

Sherlock raised his eyes to him.

'Please, do not do anything exceptionally unusual, or dangerous, to scare off Kyla.'

Sherlock ignored him.

'I'll be leaving at one in the morning for my train. I'm away to bed because I won't be getting much sleep with the travelling. 'Night, Sherlock.'

Sherlock didn't answer, and he had already raised his violin to his chin, and began playing, a heavy, depressing melody, his bow strokes angry.

Kyla groaned, looking across to the digital clock at her bedside. _Two...Morning. He can _not_ be playing at this time! _Kyla thought.

Sherlock had not stopped playing the violin since he picked it up at seven thirty that evening. Kyla had been struggling to sleep, having moved from home for the first time, and now he had been keeping her up with that infernal racket.

She decided enough was enough. Kyla threw down her bed sheets and put on her dressing gown. Locking the door after her, she marched upstairs to 221B, and banged her fist against the door.

She waited.

No answer.

Again, Kyla banged her fist against the door.

She waited again.

Still no answer.

Kyla was furious now, as she had her first day at university tomorrow, and she wanted to be fresh and ready. This time, she knocked again, with no avail, and tried the door. She was past the point of respecting his privacy.

Kyla found that the door was open. _He should take his own advice,_ she thought wryly.

She scanned their flat; there were papers everywhere, so many she could barely make any furniture.

Moving around the corner she found Sherlock. He was still in his clothes, and was staring out the window, the piece he was playing was now sad, his bow moving in long, slow sweeps. She couldn't help but be mesmerized by his playing. He was actually very good at the violin. And she had high standards, being a violinist herself.

After a few minutes he stopped, and without looking behind him he spoke.

'If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were trying to burgle me.'

Kyla snapped out of her trance, 'I-I'm s-sorry, I uh, it was…I was just coming up to ask if you could _please_ stop playing. I need sleep tomorrow for university. I tried knocking and shouting, but you didn't answer, and I found the door open. You should listen to your own advice sometimes.'

'I don't need to lock my door. If anyone did come up to attempt to hurt me or whatever other mundane reason, I'd be able to take care of myself very well. Unlike you,' Sherlock said, removing his violin from his chin, though still not turning around.

'Whatever,' Kyla spat, exhausted and wanting to get back to her bed, 'Just stop that racket.'

Kyla headed for the door, but before she could, Sherlock's towering form was in front of her (and she was quite tall) and was forcing her back against the wall.

Kyla's eyes were wide and she was scared.

_Thump thump thump. Thump thump thump._ She didn't know what this man was capable of. She knew Mrs. Hudson had warned her about him- but she couldn't fathom why she'd let someone potentially dangerous like him, live here. Sherlock had mentioned to her he could take care of himself if anyone was to hurt him…

Sherlock now had her against the wall, his arms on either side of her, and his unique, blue-grey eyes staring into hers. Sherlock's hand came up to her neck, and he held it there for a minute. Sherlock leaned forward, and kissed her on the lips.

Kyla froze, but then found herself responding, kissing him back. But her senses kicked in and she pulled away from him, though still scared to move or speak. He looked at her neck, where there was a simple silver chain with spiral on it.

_Thump thump thump thump. Thump thump thump thump._

'Please don't hurt me. You can play your violin if you want!' Kyla squeaked out.

Sherlock stared at her for another, very _long_ minute.

Kyla raised her right hand to his wrist, and pushed his hand away gently. His eyes lingered on her face for while, then they glanced to her hand, noticing the silver ring upon her index finger.

Sherlock suddenly stepped back and scoffed at her, 'I'm not going to hurt you.'

Kyla let out her breath, not realizing she had been holding it. She relaxed a little, but was still cautious of Sherlock, 'Well, when you pushed me back against the wall I was getting a little worried, like.'

'What is the point of putting 'like' at the end of a sentence? ''Well you know what I mean, like. Yes, like. I know, like,'' ' Sherlock mocked her.

'It's just the way I speak, _like,' _Kyla looked at him, then whispered, 'Why did you do that?'

'Do what?'

'You know…kiss me? And how old are you too! You're like forty!' Kyla said, eyes downcast.

'It's an experiment. And I am _not _forty,' Sherlock scoffed.

'I'm thirty-three.' **(A/N: we're never really told his age, I don't think, but I don't want him, **_**that**_ **much older than her :S)**

'_What! I'm only eighteen!_'

'I know,' Sherlock said, then spoke, cutting her off.

'It's interesting that ring and necklace of yours,' Sherlock spoke up, turning to face her.

Kyla toyed with the spiral around her neck, and closed her hand into a fist, hiding the ring, 'I like jewellery.'

'Yes, but those two pieces of jewellery have specific meanings. That ring you are wearing is the Claddagh Ring, and the spiral on your neck is a Celtic Triple Spiral.'

'So? Maybe I wanted to bring a piece of home with me,' Kyla said defiantly.

'Maybe. Or a boyfriend gave you the ring, I'm nearly sure. Two hands hold a crowned heart. The joining of hands, heart and crown represent a perpetual bond of friendship, love and loyalty. By wearing the ring with the heart pointed inwards means your heart is taken. Wearing the heart pointing outwards shows your heart is open. Yours is pointing outwards,' Sherlock stated, stepping forward and taken her hand, pulling her fingers out from being closed in a fist, and studied her finger and the ring.

'You must have been away somewhere sunny, because there is a tan line where the ring originally was- you had it pointed inwards. Now it's not. Interesting,' Sherlock said, and raised an eyebrow at her, and he played with her necklace, studying the spiral.

'Also know as Triskele or Goddess spiral, it's made up of three spirals. This female symbol is testimony of the power of the mother goddess. It's given to mothers some times,' and he eyed her suspiciously, then dropped her hand and necklace and strode over to the window looking out, and he spoke dismissively 'You can go now.'

Kyla just stared after him, and then left quietly, shutting the door behind her.

Kyla woke at seven thirty in the morning when her alarm continued to shrill, and groaned burying her face in the pillow. After ten minutes, the snooze went off again, with another constant shrill. She thumped the alarm clock and got out of bed, her eyes still red rimmed from last night, after crying, because of…_him._

Kyla showered, letting the hot water wash away the tenseness in her body. Stepping out of the shower she wrapped a towel around her body, and made her way to the kitchen to get a drink.

She opened the fridge, taking out a bottle of water, and poured herself a drink. Closing the fridge door, she froze and stared at Sherlock, who was rummaging through her cupboards.

'_What are you doing!' _Kyla all but shouted at him.

Sherlock looked over to her, 'Oh, good morning to you too, Kyla-Muirne,' he said, a fake smile spread across his face, acting very unlike himself.

'Where is your su-Oh, there it is!' Sherlock exclaimed and lifted out the bowl of white sugar.

Kyla just stared at him again.

'You should really get out of the habit of staring at me like that. And close your mouth, you'll catch flies,' he stated absent-mindedly, dipping one finger into the sugar and sucking it off his finger, before putting it back in again.

'Eugh! No, don't double dip!' Kyla exclaimed, racing over and snatching the bowl of sugar from him.

'And get out of my flat!' Kyla added.

Sherlock gazed at her for a while, making Kyla feel uncomfortable, 'Why were you crying?' he asked.

Kyla lifted her hand to her eye, and dropped it again, 'I wasn't crying.'

'You know you shouldn't lie to me. I know you were.

'It's none of your business.'

'Why were you crying?' Sherlock repeated, standing again, taking the bowl back off her.

'It doesn't matter. I need to get dressed,' Kyla mumbled, realizing she was still only wrapped in her towel.

Kyla left him in her kitchen, really not bothered with trying to get him out. She needed to get ready for university.

She came back out in jeans, a tee and a jacket, and groaned finding him still the kitchen. He had his feet up on the table and was leaning back in the chair staring at the roof.

'I need a fag. Do you have any fags? No, of course you don't. It's a bad habit. Don't start,' Sherlock said, before Kyla could get a word in.

'Just leave, please. I need to leave soon, and I need peace,' Kyla said, exasperated.

'No.'

'What? Why not?'

'Because.'

'Because why?' Kyla gritted out.

'Just. You should learn to control your anger better.

'I can control my anger!' Kyla exclaimed, trying hard to keep herself under control.

'I think not. You're hands are fisted, your breathing slow and heavy, your teeth are clench…Just some of the reasons.'

'**Get out now!**' Kyla shouted at him, pushing his feet off the table and trying to get him off her chair.

Sherlock looked a little surprised, but he masked it quickly.

'What's wrong?' He quizzed her. It was obviously not _just_ him who had aggravated her.

'Seriously? _Seriously? YOU!_ You are what's wrong. You come and welcome me so very _kindly_ by showing off what a big, know-it-all you are. You think you know everything about everyone, and you brought back memories I'd rather not think off! Then last night, you make me think you were going to do something to me, then you kissed me _you pervert!_ Then you come to my flat- no _break into _my flat- and start _deducing _me again, and bring back even MORE memories! All I want is to be left alone, instead of you sticking your big feet on my table, and your big hands into my SUGAR!' Kyla's voice rose and rose, until she let out a long, held breath.

'Just go,' she whispered, annoyed that this man could work her up so much.

She closed her eyes, and when she turned around Sherlock had left and shut the door behind him.

**Well, Kyla has a bit of a temper :S Poor Sherlock being stood up to. And now he's a perv to Kyla. Poor, poor Sherlock. I know this might seem like another boring chapter, and I hope I didn't jump around too much, but I don't want to rush into things, and I want everyone to see every side of Kyla and how she acts around Sherlock and all. I will try to make the next chapter more interesting.**

**Anyway, please review! **


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